


Live Once, Live Twice

by zxrysky



Series: Naruto Drabbles [4]
Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gen, Mentions of Addams Family, OC - Freeform - Freeform, OCs - Freeform, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6041878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiranui Genma likes the taste of poison in his mouth, the cut of weapons against his flesh, the wet slide of blood on his skin. He likes black, the sharp senbon, the quirky way he doesn't die even after ingesting something that should kill him, even after walking into a trap that should kill him.</p><p>The ninja life is terribly suitable for an Addamses, he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ascension

Shiranui Genma enters the world without a sound. He’s not dead, he can hear his heart beating like a drum inside of his chest; but he is dead silent. The midwife is concerned. His mother has died not long after childbirth, his father is long gone. 

 

The midwife looks at the silent child with the dead mother and the missing father, and thinks,  _ mute _ . 

 

Genma looks at her, and thinks,  _ imbecile _ .

 

Everything in this world is too bright for him. The walls are white; the midwife is dressed in stunning blue and white; he’s wrapped up in a white bundle. There’s too much white in this scenario for his taste. 

 

Genma doesn’t know how he’s ended up this way. Being reborn is one thing; being reborn in a place like  _ this _ , where black seemingly has no place in this world of color and shocking white, Genma cringes at the thought.

 

He can feel heat tickling at the back of his throat and he swallows it down hurriedly. He doesn’t know this place, doesn’t know this world. Is it the same as the one he was in before? Genma doubts it. He’s not going to spew fiery arrows like Pubert did. 

 

Pubert. His baby brother from another world. Genma briefly wonders if he’s dead. 

 

The midwife feeds him with chalky milk, bland and tasteless and disgusting. Genma wishes for the mix he used to get; vodka, raw egg, arsenic. It was spicy, it was sweet, it left a strong aftertaste. Milk pales in comparison.

 

When she dumps him in the orphanage, Genma isn’t very surprised. He wonders how long it took her to make that simple decision, even with the tiny brain of hers. Surely, she must have known that the only available option for him was the place where other parentless children went? She certainly didn’t have the money to raise him (nor the will, or the capability, with the defeatist attitude of hers that he had seen on occasion) and he wasn’t going to settle with being raised by a fool.

 

The matron of the orphanage isn’t much better. Genma knows that he isn’t supposed to have a whole realm of knowledge at the age of a few months, and he shouldn’t possess such finely honed motor skills either. But Pubert was crawling at the age of two weeks and he was sliding down banisters and avoiding death at the age of five weeks. Genma can do better.

 

Still, he doesn’t understand this world. They aren’t speaking English (that’s for sure), and he can place the language as Japanese. He knows Japanese, vaguely, brief letters brushing across his mind as he listens to others talk.

 

_ “That baby in the corner, he’s so silent, I wonder if he can talk at all.” _

 

_ “I think he’s mute.” _

 

_ “Oh, he isn’t, I’ve heard him cry when he’s hungry. He’s just eerily silent otherwise.” _

 

The matron creeps around him, holds him with a tentative grip when picking him up for feeding and burping him. The older ones, dressed in everyday clothes and walking around helping the matron do odd jobs, those stare at him for prolonged periods of time. They’re probably trying to see if staring will jolt a reaction out of him, but Genma just stares back. 

 

He’s still a bit unnerved by the world shift, if he’s to be honest. Addamses are adaptable, certainly, but he hasn’t seen a single Addams in this world yet. Genma believes that he’s in an entirely new world, one unconquered by Addamses, one in which he’s all alone.

 

Genma was once Wednesday Addams, now he’s just Shiranui Genma, a boy instead of a girl, Japanese instead of American. But he’s still an Addams by blood and soul-- something that will never be torn away from him, not when his mother was so invested in blood magic and curses. 

 

Now, though, he stays silent and watches others go by. He can’t try the things he used to, even with his motor skills the way they used to be as a baby girl. He’s quiet as he props himself up to look around, taking in the sights. 

 

The orphanage seems to be poorly funded. Many orphanages are, he thinks. But with so many children here, this is probably the only orphanage in town. And being the only orphanage, it should receive more money. The walls are old and cracked, the doors creak when opening and closing, drafts blow in every now and then, and the younger ones get chills. He’s in a room with at least ten other beds, the baby room, he supposes. All of them are weeks old, and rooms like this aren’t very helpful to the growth of babies. Especially those without an Addamses’ constituent. 

 

He’s a month old when he stands (for the matron to see), and the matron almost faints clean away. As it is, she stumbles, reaching for something to hold onto when in this room, all there is are walls and beds. Futons. Just a couple of cloths on the ground. There’s nothing for her to hold as support. 

 

Genma pads over to one of the other babies and stares. They’re exactly like what normal babies look like. Round faced, not a hair in sight other than the wisps on the top of their head (and sometimes, not even then), bright eyes and smiles. He’s not sure what he was looking for. A head full of hair, perhaps. A moustache, like Pubert had. 

 

He’s comparing too many things to his old life, and Genma doesn’t think that’s too good. It’s probably not healthy for his mental health.

 

“Genma!” The matron says. “You can walk!”

 

He stares at her.  _ She’s dumb, isn’t she _ , he concludes.  _ No one can stare at someone who’s clearly walking for that long and not realise the obvious. _

 

He’s tempted to talk, too, but that might be a bit much for her. She would probably faint this time. He toddles back to his futon, settling down and wrapping the cloths around him. His very own cave. One where he can do secret human experimentations and play around with chemicals. Maybe recreate one or two of the 17th century torture devices. He wants a guillotine of his own.

 

The matron flushes when she catches Genma’s staring, and rushes out. She’s concerned, in a way that most people shouldn’t be when it comes to babies. Hotaru Karui has heard of geniuses, of prodigies, of children who graduate from the Academy in one year and at the age of seven. But she has never - and has never dreamt of ever seeing - a child stand and walk at the age of one month.

 

His development is too fast, and she’s worried at what it might mean. The child is always quiet, staring at everything, taking it all in. Karui is certain that he knows what he’s looking at, understands what they’re saying, and that sends chills down her back. Not just in a professional, matronly sense, where she’s just another woman caring for orphaned children and when she sees a child who’s too strange, she’s worried for them. It reminds her of when she used to be on the field, at the frontlines, fighting in battles that gave her the scars on her body. They’re hidden, with long sleeves and pretty makeup, but they’re there.

 

That calm stare and silent padding of feet makes her shudder. Karui doesn’t really know what to think. She tells one of the older children there to look after the orphanage for a short while, and she hurries off to the Hokage’s office.

 

When she retired, she’d sworn to never step foot in there again; not because she hated the Hokage, but she had lost too many friends on the battlefield because of decisions he had made in that very office, and the office was a place of bad memories.

 

“I would like to see Hokage-sama,” Karui says to one of the ninja on guard. “It’s urgent.”

 

The ninja looks at her speculatively. “Do you have an appointment?”

 

He says it like the Hokage is a dentist. Karui shakes her head, but presses further. “This is urgent, I have a child at the orphanage, he’s standing and walking at the age of one month.”

 

Both ninja look incredulous. They share a look, before turning back to her. “Are you sure you’re not seeing things?” One of them asks her kindly. “Maybe the stress is getting to you?”

 

“I know what I saw.” She snaps back. She takes a breath. “He’s been in my care since he was a week old, I know how old he is. I record all of their milestones. I didn’t expect to have to record his so early. I would like to ask the Hokage for advice.”

 

The ninja shrugs, stepping aside. “I’ll check if he’s busy.”

 

-+-

 

When Genma wakes up the next morning, he’s just in time to see a new face walk in through the doors. The doors to the room open, and he is treated to the sight of a man with scars on his face. Genma’s eyes widen, and he sits up, instinctively wanting to find out more.

 

Those scars don’t look self inflicted, and as someone who, in their past life, had no scars to speak of, this is interesting.

 

The matron hurries over to Genma’s side, patting the futon lightly. “This is Shiranui Genma. Genma, meet Hishi-san. He’s a ninja.”

 

Ninja? With the shuriken and all? Genma is vaguely impressed. His father would have loved ninja. Some of them fight with swords, right? His father loved fighting with swords. And the death that came with the job; his father would probably have wanted to be a part time ninja.

 

Hishi sits down, lips upturned a smile as he looks at Genma. “Hi!” He says cheerfully. “I’m Hishi. Can you tell me your name?”

 

Genma doesn’t recoil, but it takes him a large effort not to. Cheerfulness is something… he doesn’t really appreciate. He stays silent. He won’t deign a cheerful person with a reply. He thinks a man with scars like that would have been cool with jaded silence and short answers, but no. He’s a cheerful man.

 

“I see what you mean, Karui-san.” Hishi says, smile never leaving his face. “I’ll take him!”

 

Genma’s eyes blow wide open, and he scrambles back, pressing against the matron. He looks up at her in a panic and she smiles reassuringly back. He doesn’t want to be sent to a  _ cheerful _ person! The Addams family would disown him!

 

Hishi scoots closer, arms wide. Genma tries to hide behind the matron. He  _ hates _ hugs.

 

Hishi is a cruel, cruel man with no care for children’s opinions, and Genma can respect that character flaw. Hishi picks him up like he weighs nothing, and sweeps him out of the room with a flair that he thought only his mother possessed. The matron follows closely behind, papers all out and ready for adoption. 

 

Genma struggles just a bit, but he knows it’s useless. For all his motor skills and strength, he’s still a baby. He can’t beat an adult, let alone a  _ ninja _ . He resigns himself to having to kill this man at the earliest possible convenience while making it look like an accident. He once said he would scare his husband to death, if he ever wanted to become a Black Widow; but he thinks that scaring this ninja to death isn’t very feasible.

 

Hishi signs everything with a flourish and strides out of the orphanage. Some of the children there look jealous, eyes turning steely and hands clenching at their sides. Genma tilts his head at them. Are they jealous that he’s being adopted?

 

He turns beseeching eyes onto them.  _ Please change places with me _ , he begs in his mind.  _ I don’t want a cheerful man bringing me home. He might make me smile in pictures. _

 

None of them can read minds, disappointingly, and Genma swallows tightly as he watches the orphanage shrink. The matron wasn’t the best of guardians, but at least she controlled her facial expressions better than Hishi. The man seems to have only one expression-- crazily gleeful.

 

The village though, is a welcome distraction. Everything is a bit too happy for his liking, but it looks like something he can place from home. Streets full of people, haggling, shops selling food, clothes, and  _ ooh _ ,  _ weapons _ , now Genma can appreciate that. He leans in the direction of the shop, making grabby fingers, and Hishi looks down at him. 

 

“You want to go in?” He asks, inclining his head at the weapons shop. Genma raises an eyebrow and goes back to straining in Hishi’s arms towards the shop. He feels that Hishi should stop asking stupid questions when the answers are so blatant.

 

He can’t see Hishi drop the smile and stare at Genma with a studious glint in his eye, not when Genma is so focused in getting into that shop. He wants to see if there are blades, the big kind, the guillotine kind. 

 

Hishi smiles, swinging Genma back into position. “Not today, Genma! Maybe tomorrow, or the day after! Today, we’re getting you settled in, nice and ready.”

 

He brings Genma to a house located a bit far from the heart of the village, wandering inside the forest until all Genma sees are trees. Tall, towering trees that he’s never seen before; Genma thinks that he can sky dive off them, with their height. Hishi is slightly quieter now, his footsteps growing softer until Genma can’t hear the crunch of his feet on the leaves below. It’s like he’s being carried by a ghost. He likes it.

 

They stop at a house in the woods. It seems like a perfect place for murder, small and unassuming. Hishi presses Genma tighter against his chest and strolls along the rocky path, opening the door with one hand. 

 

“Genma,” he says on the doorstep. “This is your new house. It’s quite dangerous outside, so don’t leave without my permission, okay?”

 

Hishi looks at Genma with knowing eyes. Clearly, the man is aware that Genma has a mind far beyond that of a one month old. Genma looks away, unwilling to make any promises.

 

The possibility of death lies out there? Why would Genma  _ not _ explore?

 

“Genma, I can’t compromise on this.” Hishi says sternly. “I’m in charge of you now, I need to make sure you’re safe. If you want to do something, you tell me, and I’ll supervise. But you have to let me know.”

 

Genma looks at Hishi and thinks of Gomez. Gomez Addams let his children run wild, allowing them to pursue their happiness to the best of their capabilities. Hishi reminds him of Gomez. A man that only wanted his children to be happy, but wanted to be there to make sure they were on the right path to happiness. There were certain ways to cut your arm off, after all, to let it stick back faster. Certain ways to collect blood to let it remain fluid and not congeal after a few minutes.

 

“Okay.” He says. His first words in this world, and he says them to Hishi. “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

 

Hishi smiles like he’s known all along, and strides into the house. The house is big-- one of those houses that looks small on the outside but big on the inside. The living room is easily bigger than the size of the room he slept in at the orphanage, each room Hishi brings him into is slightly smaller than the living room, but comfortably bigger than the orphanage room. It strikes Genma how small the rooms back in the orphanage were; then again, he was a one month old baby surrounded by ten other one month old babies, they probably didn’t need a lot of space.

 

“Do you want your own room?” Hishi asks with a blinding grin as he slides into one of the smaller rooms near the end of the corridor. “Or do you want to stay with me first, in the master room?” He turns towards the end of the corridor where the door to the largest room in the house is wide open. Genma can easily fit thirty guillotines in there and have space for his bed. And an electric chair.

 

But the idea of his own room is appealing, some semblance of privacy after all this insanity. A place for him to sift through his thoughts and meditate, just like his mother taught him to. Genma squirms in Hishi’s grip and leans towards the smaller offered room. Hishi’s smile doesn’t drop, but it does falter a bit, and Genma pauses.

 

Does Hishi want Genma because he  _ wants _ Genma, a kid to take care of, or because he wants to keep an eye on Genma? Genma’s not stupid, he can gather enough of the situation to understand that the matron had escaped to inform the leader of this town about his strange development. The Hokage, they call him. The matron went to tell the Hokage, leader of ninjas in this town, and he sent this ninja after Genma. 

 

Perhaps it’s a mix of both, Genma decides after Hishi sets him down. Hishi has to keep an eye on him - otherwise, he wouldn’t have strolled into that orphanage. He doesn’t think ninja like Hishi go to the orphanage for community service; when ninja go into an orphanage, they have reasons. But Hishi has been nothing but kind and cheerful (the thought makes Genma shudder) and though Genma dislikes cheerfulness, he likes to think that he can tell when someone is genuine.

 

Hishi seems real enough. It’s not like Genma’s intentions are very honorable either. He toddles into the room, taking stock of everything. It’s not what he would intend for himself, with the colors of the wall, but the dark purple is better than the yellow-white of the orphanage. He jots down  _ black _ , on his mental to-do list. The bed is an actual bed, with a pillow and blankets and a bolster. It’s huge enough that Genma can sink in it. He’s desperate to try. Sleeping on a futon means he can feel the floor on his back; the hard floor is nice, the coldness seeping in through the sheets. But he really likes a bed. He’s just too short to get up.

 

He turns away from the distracting bed; he wants to take a closer look at his room. A closet, big and drafty, with doors he struggles to open. He manages, but barely stops himself from toppling back when the doors open. A table, teenager sized. Chairs, teenager sized. A full length mirror. It’s Genma’s first look at himself, and he peers at his reflection. 

 

Tiny hands. Tiny feet. Auburn hair. Auburn eyes. He presses his palms against the mirror. For some reason, he’s dissatisfied. A girl with black pigtails and black eyes in a black dress, that’s what he wants to see. He wants to see Wednesday Addams, a girl of 12, a girl who can remain forever 12 if that’s what she wishes. Not Shiranui Genma, a boy of one month, someone who will probably continue growing and growing until death takes him again.

 

He takes in a deep, shuddery breath, and feels Hishi’s hands wrap around his middle.

 

“Not used to it?” Hishi asks, smiling at their reflections. He pokes Genma’s cheek. Their reflections mirror their actions. “It’s your first time seeing yourself, isn’t it? I can’t imagine being this aware of the world around you but not knowing how you look like. Is it a shock?”

 

Genma looks even smaller next to Hishi with his tall stature, loose limbs and disarming smile. Hishi’s brown hair reaches his shoulders, framing his face in a way that highlights his cheekbones and sparkly purple eyes. A dark purple, the color of Genma’s new room. Hishi is classically attractive, Genma realises. Not deadly stunning like his mother, or immaculate gentleman like his father. Definitely nothing like his uncle, Fester Addams, with hunched shoulders and a bald head that would only look attractive to Addamses. 

 

He pulls at Hishi’s hair, playing with the long strands. “Can I grow my hair too?” He asks. He isn’t sure if Hishi will allow it. It does go against all known gender stereotypes, after all. Only females had long hair.

 

“You can do whatever you want to your hair.” Hishi assures him.

 

_ Even shave it all off like Uncle Fester? _ Genma thinks, lips curling up.  _ Not likely _ . 

 

He curls up against Hishi and mumbles something about his stomach. He feels Hishi smile against his head and brings him to the kitchen.

 

If Hishi makes him smile in pictures, Genma thinks that it wouldn’t be so bad. He sets the limit at one picture, though. His facial muscles don’t work that way.

 

-+-

 

His heart throbs like a metronome, a steady pulsing heartbeat that is faster than it should be. Hishi is shouting, shaking him, eyes wide with worry. There is smoke in the air, a fizzing of left-over electricity in the atmosphere.

 

Genma’s slightly burnt at the edges, his clothes giving off the scent of smoke while Genma himself is laughing brightly, lips broken apart in merriment and his eyes scrunched up. Hishi looks amazed, stepping back from the child to see the damage. Or rather, the lack of damage. Hishi is a ninja and times of war are approaching. He’s not stupid to the point that he wouldn’t trap his own house. The reason he insisted on following Genma into the entrance is to watch over him and ensure he doesn’t step in the path of a seal meant to kill enemies.

 

He looks away for one moment, he swears just  _ one second _ , and Genma steps on an electric minefield, a thousand volts jolting whoever triggered it. He’s too late to switch the boy out with another object, too late to shunshin over and grab the boy, so he watches with horror as the boy falls to the ground, smoke curling in the air. 

 

Hishi rushes over, panics at the lack of reaction from the haze of smoke and bats it away furiously. He’s rendered useless in this time of panic, can’t think straight when the thought of killing small Genma in his mind pops up. Genma lies stockstill on the ground, and Hishi can’t see his chest moving, briefly toying with the idea of the child having stopped breathing. He doesn’t let the thought linger in his mind; it makes him want to throw up.

 

Then Genma’s heartbeat rings out, strong and powerful and  _ alive _ , and Hishi is left in horrified amazement that this boy is still alive. A thousand volts would kill a grown ninja whose element is lightning, let alone a young child who hasn’t hit a year of age.

 

And Genma  _ laughs _ , something Hishi hasn’t heard in the entire two months that he’s adopted Genma, and it breaks something inside of him. Does the kid really enjoy tripping the line of life and death so much? The line was a fine tightrope; Genma had thrown away all semblance of balance and was just swinging his way across. Hishi can’t understand the kid.

 

But Genma is laughing, laughing like the world’s done a great favor to him, and Hishi chokes out a half-hearted laugh at the sight. It sounds like crazed laughter to his ears, yet Genma takes it all in stride and beams at Hishi. 

 

“Do you have more of those things?” Genma asks Hishi breathlessly, using Hishi’s hands to straighten himself. Hishi stares at Genma’s too small palms in his own. A three month old child wanting to play around with thousand volt seals meant to slaughter enemy ninja?

 

Hishi wants to say no, oh does he want to say  _ no _ , but Genma looks so happy, happier than he’s ever seen and Hishi truly wants Genma to be happy at home. The Hokage instructed him to keep an eye on the prodigy, ensure that he is brought up to be loyal to Konoha, but Hishi can’t think of Genma as someone to be moulded into Konoha’s tool. He wasn’t brought up that way and his parents would probably whip him for trying to bring up any child that way. Children should be happy, should enjoy their childhood, should be laughing and brimming with happiness everyday like Genma is right now and-

 

And Hishi can’t find it in himself to deny Genma. Will it kill the boy? Hopefully not. Will it severely injure the boy? Again, probably not. Will it make him happy? Yes.

 

He swallows, eyes softening as he looks at the boy. “I have more.” 

 

Genma visibly brightens at this, tugging on Hishi’s hand as he pads around the entrance, searching for more minefields. Hishi maintains a respectable distance away (even if Genma is superhuman and won’t die because of this, Hishi probably will) but keeps a wary eye on him. Hishi knows basic medical jutsu, enough to place Genma under a stasis jutsu and stabilize his condition until he can rush the kid to the General Hospital. 

 

The kid triggers one seal after another, electricity hissing through the air and fire tendrils whipping around the boy. Wire springs out of the ground, sharp enough to lop off Genma’s head but the kid dances around every single one with a grace a child shouldn’t possess. He avoids the shuriken like they’re nothing, some graze him here and there but he pays no attention to the wounds; the senbon he catches with glee, grabbing them tightly in his palm as he laughs, spinning around the entrance in circles.

 

When the smoke clears, Hishi is tense. He waits, on guard, green glowing in his palm for emergency medical jutsu. Genma stumbles over to him, hair in a mess but eyes the brightest he has ever seen, and Genma shows off his stash of senbon in his cupped palms.

 

“Look at what I got!”

 

Hishi flushes. A child just avoided most of his wire traps (admittedly, there were targeted at adults and not tiny children, so the height was off) and caught majority of his senbon. The jutsu seals he can’t explain, because he really can’t understand how Genma survived it all. But he’s vaguely proud of Genma. It’s a growing emotion, taking up most of his chest cavity. 

 

“That’s a lot of senbon.” Hishi tells him. “Very impressive.”

 

“I like sharp things,” Genma says absentmindedly, stroking one of the needles. They’re sharp. 

 

Hishi crouches down and cups Genma’s face in his hands. “But you should take better care of yourself. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Hishi lets his palm hover over Genma’s cuts, the green chakra seeping in and making the cuts disappear, the skin fully healed. 

 

“I didn’t get hurt though.” Genma points out. “To get hurt, I must feel pain. I didn’t feel any pain. I just got cut, I didn’t get hurt.”

 

Hishi squishes Genma’s cheeks in between his palms and looks at the boy. “I don’t like seeing you get injured. There.”

 

Genma stares at the man, before turning away, fiddling with the senbon. He doesn’t like gooey emotions like these, the ones that he can’t really understand. He’s a bit unsure with the situation right now. Weapons are easy to deal with.

 

He offers the senbon in his hands up for inspection once again, and asks, “can I keep them?”

 

Hishi blanches a bit, face paling. “You want them?”

 

“Yeah.” Genma thinks for a while. “And do you have poison, too?”

 

Hishi doesn’t want to know how Genma even heard of the word poison. Surely there isn’t talk of that at the orphanage. His smile is a little strained this time, but genuine nonetheless. He shrugs in reply. “Let’s leave that for another day. Now we’ve got to get you cleaned up and I have to reset my traps.”

 

Genma looks up. “Can we play with the traps again tomorrow?”

 

Hishi is a seasoned ninja, and yet he struggles with the answer. He’s not supposed to break in the face of torture, he shouldn’t be breaking in the face of children. “... We’ll see. You really gave me a shock today, y’know?”

 

“I know.” Genma says. “Is that bad?”

 

The kid speaks really well for someone who can’t have had much exposure to the language. “Not really, just a bit hard to take in. When I’ve absorbed everything, we’ll see, okay?”

 

Genma traces the needle’s edge, places one in his mouth, and lets himself be herded back into the house for a bath. The needle is sharp and pointy-- it draws blood when it pricks against his tongue and the sides of his cheek. He presses it further; the taste of blood is tangy, metallic on his tongue, and familiar.

 

It would taste better with the spice and sharpness of poison, but he doesn’t say it out. Hishi’s shocked; Genma shouldn’t shock him even further. Not now, that is.

 

For now, he will contend with using the senbon to test if his pain tolerance is as high as it used to be, and if dismembering himself leaves him sane. 


	2. Crowning

The Hokage looks at his crystal ball and sighs. The small child reflected within is tiny, merely a year of age, and yet he plays with defence seals like they aren’t capable of killing, he toys with weapons like they aren’t tools of mass destruction; and what’s worse is that Hiruzen suspects the boy  _ knows _ what they are. He is aware of the fact that the senbon and shuriken he plays with (not the plastic or styrofoam ones sold in shops, the cool metal with a firm edge sold to ninja) can be used to kill. Be used to harm.

 

The child is so young, younger than the children in the Academy, and he is a prodigy never before seen. His own students, now given the title of the Legendary Sannin, had graduated from the Academy at the ages of six; all were prodigies in their own right. Orochimaru, with his keen intellect and impossible growth; Tsunade, with her chakra manipulation and insane strength; Jiraiya, with his sealing prowess and leadership. They were all smart children, far beyond their peers in terms of physical ability, and intelligent beyond their age. 

 

But this is a boy that walks at the age of a month, steps into an electric minefield and comes out no worse for the wear at three months, and juggles shuriken at the age of a year. He’s clearly chosen his favourite weapon, the senbon having been stuck in his mouth for the better of nine months. Sometimes, Hiruzen sees him slicking the senbon up with some liquid before placing it in his mouth; he thinks sweet sauce, melted dango, barbeque sauce, and wonders why anyone would put food on senbon. 

 

He’s at a loss. He certainly doesn’t want to harm this boy; for all that he is a merciless God of Shinobi, he has a soft spot for children. His teacher, the Second Hokage, Tobirama-san had imparted to him the importance of the future generation. These children will grow up to be the line of Konoha ninja that protect the village, and one day, someone will follow as the Fourth Hokage. The future of Konoha lies in their tiny hands, and Sarutobi doesn’t want to destroy a child just because he may be a liability.

 

Maybe that elite force that Danzo has been working with. Root, he calls it. Konoha is the tree, the leaves, the beautiful growth and blooming that everyone sees. Root is hidden beneath the soil, a secret force that protects the village from within. Hiruzen has seen the ninja it produces; fine, yes, with a deep inherent loyalty to Konoha. They are strange, with a certain fondness for silence and a small emotional capacity, but they are loyal soldiers, something Konoha needs for the war. The Second Shinobi War may be on the brink of the end, but Hiruzen is not going to take any chances. He will ensure that Konoha emerges victorious, as is his duty as Hokage.

 

Will Root be good for the boy? Perhaps geniuses will be more receptive to other geniuses. Hiruzen would have asked Orochimaru to be his watch, but his student is out with Jiraiya in the Village of the Rain. They’ve sent a missive to inform him they might take a while to be back, and Hishi is one of Hiruzen’s most trusted ninja.

 

Kurobane Hishi is one of the better ninjas produced from the ranks of ANBU. He’s not openly reactive; not twitchy, his fingers don’t reach for a weapon every time a shadow crosses by, he’s not stiff. ANBU changes people, sometimes, changes them for the worse, but Hishi is someone Hiruzen thinks ANBU has been good to. 

 

As ex-ANBU captain, Hishi is one of the finest ninja Konoha has to offer, and Hiruzen believes that he will be impartial as always on this missions.

 

And once again, he underestimates the power of children.

 

It is children that thwarted Konoha from attacking Kiri once, the ninja couldn’t believe their eyes when they came face to face with children who didn’t even come up their waist, they held their hand and hesitated, they paid the price in bodies. Young doesn’t mean incapable. It is children that convinced Jiraiya and Orochimaru to prolong their stay in the Village of the Rain, a place wrecked by war, desolate with nothing but the pouring heavens left. It is children that will turn Hishi’s heart over and over in his chest, until he’s desperate to protect him, even in the face of punishment. Lying to the Hokage, even if it’s lying by omission, is enough for Hishi to be sentenced to the Torture and Interrogation Department for a night or two.

 

The man stands before him, hands at his side, loosely held but Hiruzen can see the tension within. His shoulders are thrown back, back straight, and he doesn’t look Hiruzen in the eye. 

 

“Hishi,” Hiruzen says. He stands before the man. The ex-ANBU turns his gaze away. “Hishi, report on Shiranui Genma.”

 

“His progress is admirable.” Hishi starts. “His accuracy is impeccable, better than some of the ANBU recruits I’ve seen. He works best with senbon but isn’t against working with ninja wires or shuriken. His taijutsu is slowly improving. I have yet to get him started on chakra control, but it will be worked on later this week. In terms of history, he is learning at an incredibly fast rate. He shows interest in areas such as kenjutsu and funjutsu as well. I am fairly skilled in the art of kenjutsu and will be able to provide him with the training he desires, but I am still lacking in the department of funjutsu and will not be able to provide much help. He has passed Academy Graduating level of mathematics, geography, science, reading and writing, though he shows a strong interest in furthering his science education.”

 

“Hishi.” Hiruzen levels a stare at him. “I’d like a professional opinion. Do not leave anything out of your report.”

 

“... He still shows no sign of excess damage after playing with my seals. He may be slightly injured after, but no fatal injuries incurred. He has a high pain tolerance and seems to enjoy biting on senbon. He carries a pack of senbon around with him.” Hishi takes a breath. “That’s the extent of it, Hokage-sama. I have not withheld any other information from you.”

 

Hishi knows how to lie, and he’s praying with all his might that the Hokage isn’t catching onto him.

 

Hiruzen knows that Hishi is hiding something; something that isn’t important enough for him to know, but important enough for Hishi to want to keep it a secret. Hiruzen has faith in Hishi; the man won’t let him down so easily. Hishi has proved time and time again his undying loyalty to Konoha, Hiruzen will grant him this one slight. 

 

“Do you think we should enroll him into the Academy?” Hiruzen asks, switching the topic. It is a valid question nonetheless. Children should be exposed to other children, but everybody is at a loss at what to do when it involves Shiranui Genma.

 

Hishi isn’t sure of the answer. He thinks Genma would appreciate being around other children, but at the rate he’s progressing, and at the age of only a year, there’s no doubt that he will be bullied. Oh, Genma’s strong willed, certainly, but Hishi still feels a tug at his heart when he thinks Genma might get bullied. He’s also worried for the other kids, trying to bully Genma without knowing what they’re getting into.

 

After all, he couldn’t confess to the Hokage that he’d been letting Genma play around with some of his milder poisons, but he can’t be sure that Genma wouldn’t use them on his new classmates if he did enter the Academy. He is in a very precarious position; and Genma is what will make him topple over. And fall to his death, most probably.

 

He thinks of Genma’s sweet smile with all his baby teeth already in, teething having happened with no fuss at all; he’s heard horror stories from fellow ex-ANBU turned mothers, of crying at wee hours in the morning and fussing over nothing all the time. Genma just took it all in stride, smiling when he admitted that he was in pain. The kid liked the throbbing feeling in his gums, enjoyed the prick of blood in his mouth when his senbon poked the sensitive tissue (purposefully? Hishi can’t tell.) and just had a fondness for pain in general. Hishi thinks Genma looks like a very tiny four year old, already grown and capable of intelligent speech, just maybe half the size of a four year old.

 

But children have enrolled in the Academy at three years old, some two, pushing the age limit (and making the Academy seem more like a babysitter facility, at times) and Hishi was once there. He enrolled at the age of two, immature and sleepy and he cried a lot. Genma is far more mature than Hishi ever was at that age, and Hishi can swear up and down that Genma is the most mature one year old anyone will ever see.

 

Will the Academy be good for him?

 

“I’d like to ask him for his opinion, Hokage-sama.” Hishi concluded. “I can make a decision on his behalf, but he’s mature and intelligent enough to make a decision on his own. I think he should have his own input about his education.”

 

Hiruzen inclines his head. He has been thinking along that line as well; if Genma knew that people had left him out of the loop, for all that he is a prodigy and a mature child, he is still a year old child. Surely there is a little immaturity left in him, surely there is a part in him that will hold a childish grudge and throw a tantrum at not being able to make his decision. If Genma loses it and throws a fit at this, Hiruzen will at least rest easy knowing that Genma is still a child, albeit one that throws fits at things children usually throw fits at when going through the throes of puberty.

 

He can still remember Jiraiya shouting at him once, at the age of twelve, about how he hated taking missions that were weak D-ranks, C-ranks that involved nothing at all, and the war effort was going on, why couldn’t they make a decision about going on their own? Sensei was just hindering them, leaving them out of these important decisions and Jiraiya hated him, would hate him forever, hated it so much when sensei made these decisions by himself, not letting the team offer their input at all.

 

It had devolved into a shouting session between Jiraiya and Tsunade, with occasional loud inputs from Orochimaru who was clearly seething with anger at Jiraiya’s comments, and Hiruzen was just utterly confused.

 

He hopes Genma is like that, a child growing up too fast but still retains a speck of innocence in his heart, mindlessly childish and demanding attention. 

 

It explains how the boy clings to Hishi, following him around and talking to him with mindless chatter. 

 

_ In the end _ , Hiruzen tries to remind himself as he dismisses Hishi.  _ In the end, Genma is just a boy. A child of Konoha. I must remember that. _

 

But child or not, Hiruzen will have to insist that Genma becomes a ninja. He’s not going to let a gem like this slide through his fingers, not when the war is ending and the villages are fraught with tension, inter-village relationships torn at the seams and looking dismal. 

 

-+-

 

“Do you want to join the Academy?” Hishi asks offhandedly. 

 

Genma blinks, hands freezing in their work, the knife grasped in mid air. The onions are barely chopped beneath his hands and he’s already feeling the sting in his eyes. “Academy?” Genma repeats with watery eyes. “What’s that?”

 

It takes Hishi a while to realise in all this time, he has never explained to Genma about the Academy, not even in History. They’re not at the part where the Nidaime created the Academy, after all. “It’s a school.” He summarizes. That’s really all the Academy is.

 

“Can I be homeschooled?”

 

Hishi turns to Genma, watching the boy chop onions. He’s too short to reach the countertop; Genma’s perched on a stool balanced on a couple of thick books. He looks adorable. “Eventually, you’ll have to go to the Academy. It’s just a matter of when.”

 

Genma thinks about it. “Is never a good answer?”

 

Hishi’s lips tug up and he turns back to frying noodles. “The Hokage doesn’t think so. If you want to be a ninja, you’ll eventually have to go to the Academy, you know? Everybody graduates from there. In Konoha, that is.”

 

The child chops the onions into fine bits and brushes them into a bowl. He’s silent. Hishi keeps an eye on him as he settles the noodles; he’s seen Genma cut off his hand in a fit of anger. It fit back perfectly and Genma didn’t even feel pain, but it looked strange and Genma disliked how long it took for the hand to stick back.

 

“Later,” Genma decides. “They’re all too old for me. I’ll join later, with my age group.”

 

“You’ll be ages ahead of them, and you might not be happy with their slower progress,” Hishi warns.

 

Genma shrugs. “I’ll just sleep in class.” He says it like it’s a simple solution. To the boy, Hishi supposes it is. By the time he enters the Academy, he’ll probably be able to pass everything with both eyes closed.

 

Hishi sets the noodles aside and starts on the eggs. Genma is given the honor of pouring his onions in. though Hishi isn’t quite sure how they’re going to eat fried egg with  _ diced _ onion, instead of sliced. He just smiles and fries the eggs, letting Genma do what he wants. 

 

Genma gets to add powdered belladonna to his noodles and a glass of Hishi’s poisons with a tinge of honey. Belladonna is one of the (few) poisons that Hishi has built an immunity to, so if a few grains of the deadly powder fly to his own dish, Hishi will live.

 

He doesn’t want to drink Genma’s mixture though. He created those poisons in order to kill, and Genma’s been slowly working up towards the heavier instant-kill poisons. He suspects that Genma can actually drink his hardest hitting poison without any effect; he’s just slowing his “growth process” down so he doesn’t scare Hishi too much. Hishi appreciates the thought and as much as he wishes he could say it’s not necessary, it probably is. It’s scarring, to see a boy you’ve raised drink your poison like it’s milk, especially when you’ve seen other ninja drink it and start going into convulsions. 

 

Genma claims that Hishi’s poisons usually leave sweet aftertastes, even without the added honey, and Hishi just smiles weakly and takes his word for it. Not like Hishi’s going to taste his own poison. He knows he won’t survive that.

 

Genma slowly sips at his drink, the perfect posture of regality. He doesn’t play with his food; he isn’t picky either, but he insists on adding poison to whatever he eats. He’s also mature enough to understand that he can’t add poison to his food when the duo eats out. 

 

He’s a little boy who’s growing up too fast. It feels like Hishi’s been raising a six year old. 

 

The kid smiles at him over his dinner, eyes bright and fingers grasping his utensils like he’s a prince.

 

It feels like Hishi’s raising someone who doesn’t need to be raised. He’s not sure how to feel about that; slightly unnerved, but Genma is Genma and Hishi wouldn’t change him. Not for the world.

 

-+-

 

With knowledge comes understanding, and Genma isn’t too sure what he thinks of Konoha. He’s terribly intrigued by the idea of ninjas, equivalent to an armed force of both attack and defense in America; but they double up as mercenaries, doing odd jobs here and there as requested by the people in the country. They’re merciless killers but sometimes they falter on the job, trying to convince the enemy everyone should have a chance to try again. They’re weak, but they draw on their weaknesses to boost their strengths. 

 

If they’re afraid of death, they don’t take it to mean that they should retire and find an easier, less tasking job. They understand it as having to work harder to become stronger and win their battles to ensure survival. It’s an interesting way of thinking.

 

But Genma is disillusioned with the idea of the Hokage. He understands why the Hokage is required, why it holds so much power over the village, but he isn’t quite ready to swear his fealty to a man he doesn’t know. A man who looks like a thousand years old with his wrinkles. A couple more days and he thinks all the Hokage’s hair will turn white, a few more days and the Hokage will have a hairless head, maybe some years later and then the Hokage will be dead. Then again, he’s a ninja. Maybe they have longer life spans.

 

The Hokage is a person in great power and Genma knows not to trifle with him. The Hokage is keeping an eye on him in the form of Hishi, but Hishi doesn’t seem the type to sell out Genma beyond what is necessary. Hishi loves Genma, the way Genma loves Hishi. He’s always been close to his parents, a parental bond is one closest to his heart. Hishi has taken that space and though he will forever remember Morticia Addams and Gomez Addams as his parents, they linger in the back of his mind and appear in dreams.

 

Hishi is real, tangible and very much alive. Genma will not forget that. He knows that Hishi has undying faith in the Hokage as well. Hishi may question the Hokage’s choices at times, but he has never defied the man and probably never well. Genma can’t quite understand the sentiment behind this; grandfatherly or not, the Hokage is someone Genma doesn’t know. No one voted him into power except for a small board of old ninja (namely the councillors, according to Hishi) and most of the councillors were the Sandaime’s ex-teammates. 

 

Genma’s not pointing fingers, but the way a Hokage is elected really isn’t fair. A Hokage is the leader of a  _ village _ , not just a leader of shinobi. The Sandaime may be a brilliant strategist, the God of Shinobi, someone everyone can respect, but Genma used to doubt (and still does) that the man is not the best choice for being in charge of civilians as well. His view of the world has been warped into that of a soldier, a shinobi, and despite all the humanity he may yet possess, he will never see things from the eyes of an untainted innocent. He sees the spats between civilian clans as childish, immature and easily solvable-- the civilian clans, no matter how weak when compared to the shinobi, think otherwise. They have their pride, just as shinobi do, but the Sandaime has lost sight of this while chasing the ideals of shinobi. 

 

It’s no secret that shinobi look down on civilians, having forgotten that as civilians rely on shinobi for protection, shinobi rely even more so on civilians for food, for shops, for trade. Majority of Konoha’s income arises from the booming trade industry the civilians have started, and credit must be given where it is due.

 

The Sandaime rose to his power because a bunch of ninja looked at him and deemed him worthy of leading them, but forgot that the village consisted of civilians as well. Civilians, who do not have the hardened minds of shinobi; who discriminate just as freely as shinobi (and sometimes, even more-- shinobi know pain, they know sacrifice, and some civilians look down on those who have sacrificed everything without understanding their sufferance, shinobi look at those and empathize, though they stay away); who are weaker willed than shinobi and hence feel emotions more strongly. They hate with a vengeance, push blame on anyone they can accuse and are far more cruel than shinobi realise.

 

Shinobi embrace the cold side of human nature, the side where emotions are dimmed and morals are blurred so they can do their job and not be torn apart with too much guilt. Civilians choose the emotions that choke up the throat, burn in the eyes and blow their mind. 

 

Those who keenly feel emotions are always a lot crueler than those who abstain.

 

That is why he likes civilians more than shinobi; civilians, who think nothing of letting all their emotions play out their faces, and are so easy to string along. Civilians who believe rumors and spread their own like wildfire, a little gossiptown of liars and players. Civilians who take and take and never give anything in return, their selfishness making an appearance and staying in the cold sneer of their faces. 

 

He enjoys civilians. They are cruel like him, tongues flying with unknowing poison and destroying brittle egos. Humanity is such a fragile thing, like a flightless raven, hollow like its bones.

 

Civilians like him too, the little boy who is small for his size. They think he is four and a prodigy; well, they got one of those assumptions right. They smile and coo at him, praising his enunciation and gasping at his maturity. They think him polite, with a mind full of innocence and a child’s imagination. They believe he is a good child, always toddling around behind Hishi-san the ninja, offering to carry bags even though his small stature renders him practically useless - the bags would be dragged on the ground, he’s that short - and the thought is what counts. They say how well mannered the boy must be, walking by toy shops and looking in them but never asking for anything, never making a scene, never embarrassing his guardian.

 

Civilians also gossip about him, the little boy who is too mature for his age. Who were his parents, they ask. No one in Konoha resembles him. His hair is a shade too light than most generic brown hair in the village, and his eyes are three shades too dark. Why is Hishi-san his guardian? He looks four, sure, but no one has seen him in the village before a year or so ago, when Hishi carried him past the bustling market, the street in the heart of Konoha.  _ Experiments _ , they whisper with ugly looks on their faces.  _ A boy with a mind of an adult. Strange, strange. Too strange, I bet his parents are dead. I bet he killed them. Ninja, you know? Can’t trust them too much. _

 

He loves how two-faced they are. He’s always courteous, always polite, staying out of the way and remaining entirely unassuming. It’s something that Wednesday Addams never was. She would claim the spotlight if it was there for the taking, calling it her own with something particularly gruesome, like the time she let fake blood spurt from cuts on her body while in a school play, collapsing emptily to the ground and giving a very convincing death. The entire first row had a face full of her tomato aerial spray. It was brilliant. A mild poison was also very cleverly hidden within the spray-- all the parents had been sick with heavy vomiting and unending diarrhoea. He thinks of himself as slightly different from Wednesday Addams now, still the same person in essence, but a little different in personality due to his surroundings. 

 

He’s appreciated the art of subtlety a lot more, understood why his mother did always enjoy being vague and ominous, his father’s obsession with being well dressed, and their combined politeness. It unnerves people, the way he speaks. He’s been nothing but well behaved and yet they fear him, call him names, spit on his (supposed) heritage and some parents warn their children away from him.

 

He likes the village, he likes Hishi, he just thinks the Hokage could do a lot better. 

 

It’s why he’ll stay out of the Hokage’s grasp for as long as possible, and why he says no to going to the Academy now.

 

-+-

 

He waits, eyes trained on the door. Hishi is going to walk through those doors in a matter of seconds, the man so unbelievably predictable that it worries him. Isn’t Hishi supposed to be a professional ninja? Retired, yes, but ninja shouldn’t be so predictable. Should they? Maybe it’s a ploy to get him to lower his defences and underestimate Hishi. Smart man.

 

The trap is in place. The wires are strung tight, placed in sneaky positions planned to not draw attention, places hidden in the shadows such that sunlight doesn’t strike it and glint off the taut wire. The bait is the senbon trap placed just before the door, made to go off the moment the door opens. The senbon tipped with poison will shoot out, attacking Hishi just as he walks through and distract him. He has always attacked Hishi with one method only, be it a sword, senbon, ninja wire etcetera. Hishi will not be expecting this, hopefully. While Hishi is busy with the senbon, he will move towards the deadly site of ninja wire.

 

If even that doesn’t work, he has a third plan. A simple white powder placed above the door, unsuspecting and innocent. Truly, the powder is not poisonous. Not to anyone at all. It is entirely safe and harmless. Hishi might be disappointed in him for using it.

 

Genma’s lips curl up at the thought. Hishi knows he schemes. The best ploy is to make Hishi think something will happen to him, something terrible, something that only Genma can come up with. But the powder is nothing at all compared to some of the poisons that Genma has shown Hishi. It is very simply just powder. Might make Hishi’s complexion better, actually.

 

It will make Hishi go crazy, and Genma stays perched on the top of the cupboard in the hallway, seal carved on the cupboard top to ensure he does not draw attention. The Look-Away seal, Genma calls it. He has fashioned it from the Disillusion ninjutsu, the one that makes people’s eyes slide aside from your hiding place and think no one is there.

 

He waits patiently, chewing on his senbon and sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. He’s small enough that he can sit straight up without banging his head on the ceiling and he sits there, waiting for Hishi to come back. He should be back now, walking in through the door anytime now and soon enough Genma can hear footsteps.

 

_ Oops _ , Genma thinks as the door creeps open. There are two sets of footsteps and if the other is a civilian then… well. Hishi will protect them well enough. Hopefully. If worse comes to worse, Genma will drop in and help.

 

It’s not a civilian. It’s someone Genma has seen walking around with dogs at his side. His summons. Now the dogs aren’t here, but the sword is at his side at usual. His eyes widen at the sight of the sword: will today be the day Genma learns kenjutsu from someone classed as a master? A real, genuine master? For all Hishi’s intelligence and talent, he’s not a master, not on the same level as this man is. 

 

Hatake Sakumo. A man with stunning white hair the color of snow and an air of power around him. But Genma only catches a glimpse of the man and his sword before both he and Hishi are moving away from the senbon and into Genma’s trap.

 

Hishi gets cut a little, just a tiny slice on the ankle that barely draws blood and immediately both of them move away from the ninja wires. Genma pouts from his position; he didn’t even manage to draw blood. It is terribly disappointing. He curls further up on top of the cupboard and plots for the next attack which will definitely be bigger and better. More poison. Maybe some fireworks as bait. Hishi wouldn’t be expecting fireworks in his house, that’s for sure.

 

Genma is careful to use poisons that Hishi can recover from, even if it’s not as fun when Hishi gets poisoned. Sakumo is (probably) immune to those poisons as well, since he doesn’t seem to be swaying on the spot after being sliced lightly across the cheek. 

 

Hishi shakes his head and inches past the wires, muttering something lowly to Sakumo as he opens the door and--

 

The powder falls, drenching both of them in it. They look like a baking accident, with what looks like flour poured all over them. But white is deceptively innocent, and Genma knows that Hishi knows (and probably Sakumo too) most dangerous poisons are white. Most drugs are white too. 

 

Genma huffs from his position at the top, lips curling up involuntarily as Hishi scowls and tries to fluff his shirt, getting rid of the white residue. Sakumo just seems amused, face and outfit now as white as his hair. Genma used a  _ lot _ of powder. 

 

“Genma!” Hishi shouts into the house. “Come here, you rascal!”

 

Silence reigns, and Hishi shakes his head, flicking at his hair to get the powder out. “Genma, I have a guest here with me. It’d be rude if I have to drag you from your hiding place!”

 

Genma presses himself against the cupboard top and peers over. He would make Hishi work for it, but he’s been waiting there for around an hour, and he wants to drink something. “I can’t get down.”

 

“How did you even get up there if you can’t get down?!” Hishi exclaims. The cupboard is rather tall, towering over Hishi by at least two heads. Genma isn’t quite sure why this cupboard is so huge, but the top does make a good hiding space. 

 

“I climbed up.”

 

Sakumo looks vaguely concerned. “It could have toppled over and crushed you.”

 

“Would it?” Genma perks up. “Can we try that?”

 

The white haired man looks at Hishi, and the latter gives him a smile. “Genma likes to do death defying stunts. I fully support his decision, seeing as he has proven time and time again that he does actually survive those stunts.”

 

He looks up at Sakumo, taking in the man in his entirety before his eyes drag down towards the sword at his side. Beautifully well maintained, and the hilt shines in its sheath. The sheath is a pure black with designs etched in gold on it; the hilt is decorated with a golden dragon snaking up and across it. Genma itches to touch.

 

Reaching out, he tries to drag the sword out of its sheath only to be stopped by a warmer, larger hand on top of his. 

 

“The sword’s a bit big.” Sakumo smiles kindly at him. It reminds him of the Hokage, but less elderly. Sakumo doesn’t have the wrinkles in his face, the smile lines and crow eyes just make him look attractive. Coming from an Addams who has stayed at age twelve for a long,  _ long _ time and seen many things, that’s a compliment. Sakumo is classically attractive and Genma pouts at him. 

 

He isn’t above using his looks to get what he wants, i.e. the sword.

 

“You can see it later, Genma. It’s almost lunch-- the tomatoes aren’t going to chop themselves, y’know!” Hishi smiles brightly. “Ah, Sakumo-san, you can just wait in the dining room, lunch should be done soon.”

 

“I could help,” Sakumo offers, unstrapping his sheath and leaning it against the wall. Genma inches towards it, only to have Sakumo raise a judgemental eyebrow at him. He slinks back to Hishi’s side with a petulant frown. “Two pairs of hands are better than one.”

 

Genma looks up at Sakumo. “I’m helping.” The senbon makes his words sound a bit strange, especially since the slow acting poison is setting in and making his tongue go numb. In the I-ate-too-much-ice-cream-and-can’t-feel-my-tongue way. It’s rather refreshing.

 

Sakumo looks intrigued. “With the tomatoes?”

 

“Yes.” Genma said. “I can’t make onigiri yet because my triangles don’t stay as triangles. They collapse.”

 

“That’s regrettable.” Sakumo replies. “Do you like cooking?”

 

“A bit,” Genma’s lips turn up. “I mostly like the knives.”

 

Hishi laughs, making his way into the kitchen and taking out the chopping board for Genma’s use. “He has to stand on chairs and books to reach the countertop, it’s adorable.”

 

“Chairs  _ and _ books?” Sakumo asks in amusement, reaching out for the rice to pack into nice triangles.

 

Genma ignores them both and drags his stool over, propping it up on three books and climbing up. The knife is well taken care of, like all of Hishi’s weapons and the light bounces off it in glints. It’s sharp enough to chop through Genma’s wrist in one clean strike. 

 

He tests the blade against his wrist, ensuring that it’s sharp enough to draw blood at the slightest touch before using it on the tomatoes. He likes using sharp things; especially things that are too sharp for his own good.

 

It’s a happy existence, for now. And Sakumo means Genma’s going to learn some kenjutsu pretty soon, which is always good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)


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